| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians by Martin Luther: The Law is a prison to those who have not as yet obtained grace. No
prisoner enjoys the confinement. He hates it. If he could he would smash
the prison and find his freedom at all cost. As long as he stays in prison he
refrains from evil deeds. Not because he wants to, but because he has to.
The bars and the chains restrain him. He does not regret the crime that put
him in jail. On the contrary, he is mighty sore that he cannot rob and kill
as before. If he could escape he would go right back to robbing and killing.
The Law enforces good behavior, at least outwardly. We obey the Law
because if we don't we will be punished. Our obedience is inspired by fear.
We obey under duress and we do it resentfully. Now what kind of
righteousness is this when we refrain from evil out of fear of
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from An Inland Voyage by Robert Louis Stevenson: like a leaf out of a picture Bible; sword-belts decorated the walls
of the CAFES; and the streets kept sounding all day long with
military music. It was not possible to be an Englishman and avoid
a feeling of elation; for the men who followed the drums were
small, and walked shabbily. Each man inclined at his own angle,
and jolted to his own convenience, as he went. There was nothing
of the superb gait with which a regiment of tall Highlanders moves
behind its music, solemn and inevitable, like a natural phenomenon.
Who that has seen it can forget the drum-major pacing in front, the
drummers' tiger-skins, the pipers' swinging plaids, the strange
elastic rhythm of the whole regiment footing it in time - and the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Paz by Honore de Balzac: Thaddeus had left Malaga's letter with him, as if by mistake.
"Poor Thaddeus!" said Adam, as Paz disappeared, "what a misfortune for
a man of his distinction to be the plaything of the lowest kind of
circus-rider. He will lose everything, and get lower and lower, and
won't be recognizable before long. Here, read that," added the count,
giving Malaga's letter to his wife.
Clementine read the letter, which smelt of tobacco, and threw it from
her with a look of disgust.
"Thick as the bandage is over his eyes," continued Adam, "he must have
found out something; Malaga tricked him, no doubt."
"But he goes back to her," said Clementine, "and he will forgive her!
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